


CONFESSIONS AND CONCILIATION

by Anne_Fairchild



Category: Grantchester (TV)
Genre: Angst, Confession, Gen, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-12 22:40:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20161765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anne_Fairchild/pseuds/Anne_Fairchild
Summary: After Will punches Leonard, they both need to find a way to start over.





	CONFESSIONS AND CONCILIATION

**Author's Note:**

> This is my view of how Will would have apologized to Leonard and the conversation they might have had to both clear the air and learn more about each other.. It’s also my view of the motivations of the characters. YMMV. Several small details differ from aired canon and timeline so not strictly canon-compliant.

They avoided each other almost entirely for 48 hours. It was surprisingly easy to do, Will found, but it bothered him. He wanted to go to Leonard, talk to him, try to explain a bit, but he knew Leonard was in no receptive mood and it would be futile. He could hardly blame him, yet every day that passed with their estrangement unresolved only made things worse.

In desperation, he decided to try the one person he thought might understand and offer solid advice. Still, he dialed reluctantly. It was his problem, and not fair to drag anyone else into it.

“Geordie - could I come round and have a talk?”

Geordie, who’d had a hunch when he left Will and his bike outside the vicarage that there might be personal repercussions to the events, cleared the rest of his afternoon. They met for lunch at the pub, though Will had no desire to eat. Subdued, he told Geordie what had happened after he’d left him at the vicarage.

“It’s my fault as much as his. He couldn’t have known. I should never have hit him, I know that. But he started in about responsibilities, and about being disappointed in me, just like my father used to do. Something inside me just..I couldn’t stop it, Geordie. It was scary,” he admitted.

Geordie winced at the tale. If only he _had _gone into the vicarage with Will. Not his business, no, but he’d already become fond of the troubled new vicar, and he certainly understood where all the smouldering resentment and emotional pain came from. He was fond of Leonard too. He could only imagine the pressures and emotions the curate had been suffering since Sidney’s departure. He would do what he could to help mend the rift.

“I think he should know what happened at the weekend. I don’t really _want _him to know, and _I _can’t tell him. Right now, he wouldn’t want to hear it - or hear anything I’d have to say. But he should know. Not to excuse my behaviour, but because I think he’d probably want to know under other circumstances. I don’t want to make him feel guilty, Geordie - half the things he accused me of are true. I did let him and the congregation down. But dammit, it’s impossible to get through to him right now, to get in at all,” Will sighed, shaking his head and taking a long pull on his pint.

“You should know something about Leonard too, and I have to hope it won’t change your opinion of him. It will explain a little about his state of mind. I have no right to tell you, and it could get him arrested and thrown in jail if that’s what you’d want to do, but I have to trust that you won’t do that. Pieces of the puzzle, Geordie,” Will offered cautiously.

Geordie regarded him keenly, needing to make a quick decision based on what Will had just said. Finally he shrugged acquiescence. In for a penny, he supposed. It meant something that Will was trusting him with personal information here, especially Leonard’s. He was taking a risk in a genuine attempt to put things right.

Will told him about the kiss - a simple affectionate kiss of the sort he might give Cathy without a thought, motivated by affection and pride with no sort of passion involved. He told him of Mrs C’s reaction and her decision to leave the vicarage, and how it had been affecting Leonard ever since. He related his attempt to get through to her, and being unsure whether he had.

Geordie could wish he didn’t know about the kiss or the result, but he could understand why it was important. Along with everything else, Leonard must be as terrified as he was hurt. It was difficult for him to imagine Leonard being physical at all, but there was supposed to be someone for everyone, or so they said.

In return, Geordie shared with Will that Sidney had been Leonard’s strongest support along with Mrs C, but that as close as they were, there had been times Sidney had let him down badly.

“He kept running off from his parish duties, leaving Leonard to take care of things, more than once, just leaving him on his own. One time in particular, it was very rough on Leonard. He felt Sidney had not only abandoned Grantchester, but him personally. He hadn’t a soul to talk to.” Geordie stopped himself and looked away. No one had ever told him all this of course, but he had eyes. He’d wanted to wallop Sidney.

“I’ve seen the scars, Geordie. It hurts to look at them, knowing what must have caused them. And I’ve done it to him again, haven’t I? Left him alone to take care of things. Damn!” Will looked stricken.

“There was no way you would have known. I just thought you should know Leonard has past experience with someone leaving and expecting him to keep things neat and tidy but not being there for him when he needed it. I didn’t love Sidney for that,” Geordie sighed.

“I’ll try to have a chat with Leonard, but I can’t promise anything, mind. I’m not sure how much he’ll listen to me. He’s a bit jealous of you I think, working with me,” he grimaced ruefully.

“Oh, no. Not that too? I’ve done everything wrong, haven’t I?”

“Not your fault.”

“Some of it is.”

“Right - well, let him know that.”

“Yes, I will.”

The next day when he came out of the study, Will saw a note by the telephone. Leonard had an appointment and would be away from the vicarage for a couple of hours. He tried not to think about what the conversation between Leonard and Geordie might be like, it was too shameful - yet he couldn’t think of anything else.

Round about tea time, Will looked up to see Geordie’s car pull up out front. Both Geordie and Leonard got out and came up the walk and in the front door. Geordie stood there in the entry looking like an old man, a hand on each of their shoulders.

“You should be making it up lads. It’s time. You need to talk to each other. Please.” He turned and went out the door without another word, leaving them alone.

“Shall I..put water on for tea?” Leonard got out after they’d stood avoiding each other’s eyes for an uncomfortable period of time.

“Good idea,” Will nodded. “Need any help?” Leonard shook his head.

“No. It’ll just take a minute.”

Feeling slightly helpless and uneasy as well as vulnerable, Will went to sit in the lounge. He knew his study would be the worst place for them to talk, even if it was the most private room in the house. It would be the farthest thing from neutral territory in the vicarage. He had to get this right.

Leonard brought in the tea tray and set it on the small table between their chairs.

“Thanks.” Will noted the slight tremor in Leonard’s hand as he poured out. The bruise on his cheek had faded only sightly. The reminder filled Will with shame. He closed his eyes for a moment, then took a breath and plunged in.

“Leonard - I’m so very sorry. I had no right - “

“No right to what?” The question was unexpected. Leonard had clearly decided not to let him off easy, or take his usual passive role.

“No right to strike you of course - but also, no right to just abandon you and my duties here.”

“No, you didn’t have either of those rights - but I didn’t have the right to judge you without asking if there was a reason for what you did. I should have. The archdeacon should have. I’m sorry about your father. Truly.” Leonard’s voice was now soft, with little of the stridency of stress it had taken on so often recently. It was difficult for him to apologize in this instance, even when he knew it was warranted. He couldn’t trust Will, didn’t know him after Mrs C’s venomous taunting.

“Thank you.” Will’s eyes suddenly filled with unbidden and unwanted moisture. He was frustrated that Leonard saw it, heard it in his voice. He hadn’t wanted this to be about pity.

“Do you - want to talk about it?” Leonard offered suddenly. His natural kindness was still there, still a part of him. He couldn’t help it any more than breathing. He must also be curious. Fair enough, but Will also needed to get to the bottom of Leonard Finch.

Will met his eyes. “I will if you will.” It wasn’t a challenge, but a plea. Leonard considered for a moment. He lowered his eyes.

“All right.” He hoped he might get some answers, at least.

“I didn’t want anyone to know. Who could I have told, and why? It was - is - a part of my life that has caused me nothing but pain. It’s something to be ashamed of, not share with anyone. I wanted to put it behind me, pretend it wasn’t real. Suddenly, out of the blue and just when I was really ready to dedicate myself to nothing more than our congregation, it was back squarely in my lap. People I love needed my help. I had to go, and I couldn’t tell anyone what a dysfunctional, messy situation I was in. Would you have?” Will asked plaintively.

“No,” Leonard assured him honestly. “I wouldn’t. I’m a very private person.” He had taken note of Will’s ‘_our congregation_.’ If it was sincerely meant and wasn’t just to pacify him, it was a good sign. “Why didn’t you call?”

“Things just..kept happening. Whenever I thought ‘now would be a good time to go’ or I realized I should call you, something made it impossible. I know I should have called, but I was rather blindsided by it all,” Will admitted. “The sense of responsibility, of duty, that’s so strong in you doesn’t come naturally to me, or it hasn’t up to now in my life. It’s something I know I need to work on. And then my father - it was a shock, but not a surprise. It was the sort of overly dramatic thing he had always done. No more excuses, Leonard. I know it was wrong, but I couldn’t think.”

Leonard said nothing for a moment, but then -

“Did you love him? Do you think he loved you?”

Will though it an odd question to ask at that moment, but the expression in Leonard’s eyes was very intense.

“I did. Not the things he did or the person he was, but as a son loves a father, yes. Can we help it? My mother says he loved me, but I don’t think she’s impartial,” he grimaced, “and she’s certainly not always truthful, for her own ends.”

“Did he..hit you?”

Will was starting to get annoyed at these questions so pointedly aimed at his most private pain, wondering if Leonard was intent on needling him and raking that pain. But there was that in his face and in his voice that also gave Will a chill of recognition, so he decided to answer.

“Yes. Until I grew tall enough and strong enough for him to have second thoughts about his coming out of it still in control. After that, he only beat me with his words.”

Now the unshed tears were in Leonard’s eyes.

“I never got that tall, or strong. I could only endure until I could manage to get away.”

There it was. Leonard had wanted someone to know, and he might be the only one who did. Not something he would admit to Geordie, or perhaps even to Sidney, who cared when he could spare the time, but who couldn’t be counted on. Leonard wanted to know if he was someone to be counted on, and he was also looking for some common ground. They came from very different backgrounds. He needed to see if they could meet over something, even if that something was only a shared pain.

“Oh, Leonard, I’m sorry.” When Will looked at him, his eyes fell in passing on the fading-but-not-faded scars on his wrist, exposed as he drank his tea.

“Those aren’t my only scars,” Leonard rasped, noticing the glance. “I don’t want anyone’s pity, but I need someone to know, I suppose,” he whispered.

“It’s a difficult thing to try and leave behind.”

“You do - but then you don’t. It’s always part of you, isn’t it?” Leonard sighed.

“Yes, it is.”

“So many things are part of us that we wish weren’t,” Leonard murmured sadly.

Will fought an overwhelming urge to hug him.

“Not everything can be changed or forgotten. Perhaps sometimes we shouldn’t try, because some of those things help make up the good parts of who we are, how we relate to people and why we feel moved to help them. Sometimes, those things are just us.

“I don’t believe God wants everyone to be the same. It’s our differences that make us human and not plaster saints. Life is more difficult for some. Maybe He values them over the ones who have it simple and easy,” Will suggested. “I’m on your side, Leonard.”

Leonard stared at him, obviously thinking, hesitant. He cocked his head.

“Are you? Are you, Will? I don’t understand you - and I don’t trust you,” he admitted.

Will had thought there must be something more, but he honestly didn’t know what it might be. Clearly it had been festering in Leonard for awhile, and it needed to come out.

“Please tell me why. I need to know what the matter is or I can’t fix it - and I want to fix it Leonard, I really do.” Leonard gave him an anguished look.

“Why did you complain to Mrs C about me, and tell her the vicarage was a shambles, that I couldn’t cope, and that I wasn’t ‘vigorous enough’ and not good at managing things? Why did you do that, Will? I hadn’t done anything to you.” Leonard’s gaze was challenging as well as deeply sad.

Will’s eyes widened, and his jaw dropped. He stared at Leonard in horror. After a moment’s shocked pause, he shook his head.

“My God, no wonder you despise me!” He groaned. “I can only ask you to believe me - I never said anything at all like that to Mrs C. I wouldn’t say it because I’ve never thought it. You’ve done a wonderful job while I’ve been feeling my way round and getting the hang of things, and you’ve been nothing but helpful and generous to me. I would never - oh my God,” he groaned, scrubbing his face with his hands.

“I was feeling bad because I knew you were upset. I knew how much you missed her. I know she doesn’t think much of me, but I wanted to try anyway. We talked a little one day. I told her you missed her, _we _missed her, and that _the two of us _were having a hard time, you know, keeping things tidy, feeding ourselves, that sort of thing. I said the vicarage lacked vigour and I meant _her _vigour there in looking after us, keeping things tidy and keeping the council in line. That’s all I said, I swear Leonard. I had no reason to speak against you, I was trying to get her back for you,” Will groaned again. “Please, please believe me.”

Leonard had been a keen observer of voice and body language and similar cues all his life. He did it without thinking, and it was something he knew he was good at. He trusted his reactions. From the start of Will’s explanation he’d sensed no lies, no subterfuge. Will was telling the truth. He felt such pain inside he couldn’t speak. He got hold of himself with difficulty.

“Why? Why would she do that - try to make me think you were gossiping and complaining about me? Why would she want to hurt me that much - and drive a wedge between us? What good would it do? I don’t understand,” he cried, his voice thick with tears breaking through.

“I don’t either, Leonard, I really don’t.” Will shrugged helplessly. “None of us likes change. Sidney gone, who was her favorite, her son I suppose. Me, she doesn’t like. You doing something that frightens her and causes her to have to look inside herself. A crisis of faith and her world turned upside down. Perhaps she’s just angry at it all, like you and I have been, and she did something against her nature and against her will, as we have. Sometimes you don’t have the control you want. It’s a frightening thing.”

Leonard sniffed and wiped at a tear. “Yes. You do things, say things that shock you. You wish you could take them back but it’s too late. We’re all too quick to judge, and I’m the last person who should judge anyone, I suppose.”

“I wouldn’t say that. I think you’re probably a very good judge of character when personal pain isn’t a part of the equation. Says the man who hit you because of his own pain.” Will pulled an unhappy face.

“Maybe..we could help to..steer each other,” Leonard offered softly. Will smiled a genuine smile for the first time that day.

“I’d like that very much. I have a lot to learn here. I’m not the most politick of men, I know - and a vicar has to be. There’s a rhythm and a pattern to being a vicar I don’t know yet, and a great many people I need to figure out, with your help.” Will admitted. “I’ll do my part, I promise, and I’ll be there for you Leonard. I’ll help when you need it - but only if you need it. I know you have no reason to trust me, but as the archdeacon says I want to begin as I mean to go on, from now. Does that sound like it might be something that would work for us? I’d like to be a team,” he finished hopefully.

““I’d like that, yes,” Leonard nodded cautiously. “It would be lovely, in fact. Is it possible?” he asked wistfully.

““We can only try,” Will smiled, with a light-hearted shrug.

“Yes. Yes,” Leonard nodded decisively. “It’s worth that try, isn’t it?” 

****

Of course, the road continued bumpy for both of them for some time. Leonard and Daniel were having problems, which was tricky for Will because he liked Daniel very much. He had hopes things would work out between them, but he couldn’t be sure yet. He was treading carefully. Will’s mother was torturing him with guilt and despite his being aware of it she still had the power to wound him. Leonard was there to listen whenever he came home from increasingly stormy meetings with her.

The most surprising thing to Will, however, was when Mrs C appeared and actually negotiated a return to the vicarage. He was shocked, after all that had happened, that Leonard would consider it. He didn’t really think it was a good idea, especially with the stipulation that Daniel couldn’t come to the vicarage and that she didn’t want to see him with Daniel. Leonard had agreed, but Will wondered how Daniel was taking that. It didn’t seem at all fair to him, and Will privately wondered how long he would tolerate it.

“Why do you want her back Leonard?” he’d asked.”Hasn’t she hurt you enough, caused you enough pain?”

“I’m not sure. Perhaps to test myself, in a sense, and see if the pain fades.”

“Well regardless, if I can see she’s making you unhappy I’ll boot her out again. Really, I will. She has no right - “

“I need to know if I’m able to overcome my reliance on her if it’s only to be one-sided. I have to allow it to play out until I’m sure of my feelings. But thank you for the thought. I know I may not be the best judge.”

“What about Daniel?”

“I know it’s not fair, Will. I know. That does hurt me. I can only pray he’ll be patient with me a while longer. Things can’t go on forever the way they are at the vicarage, me separated from Daniel so much - I know that,” Leonard sighed. “I just need a little time. I have to know for certain that Daniel means more to me than the Church - and Mrs C. One minute I think I know the answer, and the next I don’t. It’s the most important decision I’ll ever make. If I choose Daniel, I’ll have to leave here. Mrs C won’t be generous a second time. We might both have to leave Grantchester. I need the time to be sure. I know I frustrate everyone. I’m sorry, I can’t help it.”

So that’s where they were, two slowly ticking time bombs. Their support for each other was still strong, however. Their partnership was one thing that had held through all the anguish of change, a comforting constant for both of them. In the months to come, it might be all they had.


End file.
